


Gratification

by placentalmammal



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Plug, BDSM, Begging, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Ghouls, Kink Negotiation, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostitution, Rope Bondage, Sapphic September
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:12:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7991464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/placentalmammal/pseuds/placentalmammal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gloria Van Graff hires Beatrix for a little bit of pinch-and-squeal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gratification

Beatrix grinned. “Well then,” she said, “how are we playing tonight?”

Leaning back on the sofa, Gloria sipped her wine and studied Beatrix. She had a thin face, a wide mouth, and high, sharp cheekbones. Gloria could see the ghost of a beautiful woman in Beatrix’s ravaged features; she raised her glass to her lips and wondered idly whether the other woman had mourned the loss of her pretty face.

Now, she looked more-or-less like every other ghoul: patchwork skin, exposed cartilage and musculature. A few strands of thin, greasy hair clung to her scalp like scrubweed, limp and lank and pulled back in a ponytail. She was dressed plainly in everyday clothing -- duster, boots, and trousers -- no chains, no corset, no black leather. No clues as to her current line of work, except for the coiled leather whip dangling from her belt loops.

“Ropes,” said Gloria plainly. She set her mostly-full wineglass down on the coffee table. She’d poured it to occupy her hands while she negotiated with Beatrix, but she found she didn’t need it. “Tie me up,” she said, arousal coloring her voice. “Make me come.”

Nodding, Beatrix scratched her jaw. “We got all night. Want to try orgasm denial?”

Gloria _hmm_ ’d thoughtfully. “What would that entail?”

“It’s the same thing, really,” said Beatrix, all business. “Get you in some sort of harness and keep you dancing on the edge until you’re completely wrecked.”

Her casual indifference made Gloria squirm. She could picture it clearly: arms and legs bound while Beatrix loomed over her, laughing softly at her desperation.

Gloria licked her lips and leaned forward on the sofa, offering the other woman a peek down her throat. “I think I like the sound of it,” she said, thighs clamped together. “Let’s try it. Same rules as always?”

“No whips, no knives, nothing but fingers in your cunt.” Her milky eyes flicked over Gloria’s body, lingering on her bust and on the hollow of her throat. “Green for ‘go,’ yellow for ‘slow down,’ red for ‘stop.’”

Lips pressed thin, Gloria nodded. “Alright then,” she said, rolling her shoulders. “Let’s do this.” She unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged out of it, letting the yellowed polyester slip from her grasp and fall to the floor. She looked up and saw Beatrix watching her, cloudy eyes drifting over her bare skin.

“You look tasty,” she said throatily. “Can’t wait to get my mouth on you, beautiful.”

Gloria grinned, flushing despite herself. She was used to empty flattery; it was part and parcel of her line of work. The Silver Rush saw a lot of idiots and tourists who assumed that they could sweet-talk their way into a discount. There was a twenty per-cent surcharge for wannabe-casanovas, assuming Jean-Baptiste didn’t get to them first. Five years of arms dealing had left Gloria immune to pretty words, unless they were bought and paid for and delivered by an ugly woman in pretty boots.

Gloria stood to unzip her skirt. She let it fall gracelessly to the floor, stepped out of it, and kicked the crumpled fabric underneath the couch. “Well?” she said, breathing hard. She hadn’t bothered with underwear that morning, and she stood naked before the other woman, fists clenched at her sides.

Beatrix chuckled. “No panties?” she said, a mocking edge in her voice. “Did you do that for me?”

Gloria nodded, and Beatrix laughed again. The ghoul crossed to the door and heaved her satchel up onto the sideboard. It _thunked_ promisingly, and Gloria shivered.

“Dirty girl.” She undid the zipper and rummaged through her toys. “Gives you easier access, I guess. Did you touch yourself today?” She glanced over her shoulder, and grinned at Gloria’s nod.

“This is going to be _fun_ ,” said Beatrix. “You’ve done all the hard work for me.” She pulled a length of cord out of her bag. It was black, thick around as her little finger, and spun from some deliciously soft fiber. Pre-war, Gloria assumed. She hadn’t asked, but she suspected that the rope was worth more than any three weapons on display in the showroom downstairs.

Gloria swallowed thickly and found her voice. “How do you want me?” She said throatily, lifting her chin met Beatrix’s eyes.

“Exactly like you are,” said Beatrix, grinning hungrily. She unspooled the rope and brought the ends together to form an enormous loop. She slipped the doubled-up rope over Gloria’s head, letting the trailing ends fall down over her breasts. “Hold this for me, will you?”

Heart pounding, Gloria held the rope in place while Beatrix tied a series of neat overhand knots in the silken cord. The rope hung down between her breasts, and the weight and feel of it sent heat coursing through her veins. She burned like an incandescent bulb, skin hot and flushed as with fever. Worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth, Gloria forced herself to remain still and impassive.

The other woman picked up on her eagerness and arousal, and pressed a dry kiss to her cheek. “You’re so good,” she said, as she passed the cord between Gloria’s legs. “So _eager_.”

Gloria said nothing and shivered as the cord pressed up against her flushed labia. Although the rope felt silky in her hands, it was unbearably coarse against her wet, aching pussy. Whining low in her throat, Gloria shifted her weight impatiently from foot-to-foot as Beatrix slipped the rope through the loop at the back of her neck, gently pulling the harness snug.

“We’re almost halfway done,” she said, a warning note in her voice. “Don’t ruin it for yourself now.”

Swallowing a groan, Gloria held herself still while Beatrix brought the trailing ends of the rope around her body, passing them through the loops of knotted rope hanging down her sternum. More knots, and she brought the ropes behind her back again to form a diamond pattern. Every knot and twist pulled the harness a little tighter; every movement sent vibrations through the taut rope. Gloria’s arousal dripped down her thighs, matting in her pubic hair and soaking the cord. Keenly aware of the other woman’s movements, she screwed her eyes shut and bit her lip, fighting the urge to squirm and wriggle until the rope pressed directly against her swollen clit.

Behind her, Beatrix stilled. “How are you doing?” she asked, her voice a gentle rasp. “You alright?”

Gloria nodded without opening her eyes. “Green,” she said hoarsely. “Keep going.”

“Alright.” Beatrix began to move again, crossing the trailing rope and cinching the harness a little tighter. “Let me know if it gets to be too much.”

_I want it to be too much_ , she thought, surprising herself with her own desperation. Beatrix worked slow and methodical, but Gloria was ready _now_ ; flushed and aroused and practically trembling with impatience. With any other lover, she would have demanded immediate satisfaction: _get on your knees and_ lick _me, before I lose my temper_.

It was different with Beatrix. Beatrix was a prophet of the church of delayed gratification, and she preached submission and service. Gloria paid dearly to submit to her, to surrender the control that she relished in every other area of her life. There was something deeply restorative about relinquishing control, something meditative about kneeling in service. She had no use for gods nor saints, but Gloria found her peace in once-monthly sessions with Beatrix Russell.

Nodding in satisfaction, Beatrix tied the harness’ final knot, leaving two long, trailing ends spilling down the small of Gloria’s back. Trailing ends looped around her wrist like a leash, Beatrix stood back to admire her handiwork. Cheeks burning, Gloria squared her shoulders, drew herself up to her full height, and raised her head to meet the other woman’s gaze.

Her blue eyes shone with amusement and arousal. Grinning, Beatrix leaned forward to kiss Gloria’s cheek, a shivery press of dry lips against her feverish skin. “You look good like that,” she growled, tugging gently at the harness. “I’m going to tie your hands behind your back, alright?”

Gloria nodded, letting her eyelids flutter shut. She held her hands behind her back, and Beatrix went to work securing her wrists and forearms. It was a simple tie, quicker and easier than the harness, and it only took a few minutes to secure her hands. She looped the ropes around Gloria’s wrists several times, then fed the ends through the loop and secured the knot, sending vibrations rumbling throughout the harness. The tiny movements resonated in her cunt and she swallowed a groan, her bottom lip pressed between her teeth.

“Do you like that?” Beatrix grinned and tugged on the ropes again. The cord cut into Gloria’s flesh, digging into the meat of her labia and sending sparks of arousal dancing across her flushed skin. “How are you doing?”

Eyes still screwed shut, Gloria swallowed. “Green.”

“Alright.” Beatrix walked a circle around Gloria, sliding her finger underneath the cords to check the tension, loosening and tightening her knots as necessary. “I’m going to get you on the bed and put you in a frogtie, alright?”

Gloria’s stomach flipped in anticipation. It was one of her favorite positions: ankles bound to her thighs, forcing her to sit spread-eagle, cunt on display. She nodded eagerly, teeth digging into her bottom lip.

Beatrix tsk’d and pinched her upper arm, fingernails digging into Gloria’s soft flesh. “You’re going to speak when spoken to, girl.”

Gloria jerked away from the other woman, hissing in pain. “I said it was green, didn’t I?”

Beatrix rolled her eyes and pushed her toward the bed. “Don’t be a brat,” she snapped. “If you don’t want to play by my rules, you can find someone else to play with.”

Teeth bared in a growl, Gloria allowed herself to be guided toward the bed. The back of her thighs hit the edge of the mattress, and Beatrix pushed her savagely, tipping her backward. She landed on her bound wrists, driving her fists into the small of her back. She cried out in pain, and then Beatrix was on top of her, biting at her throat and raking her stubby fingernails across Gloria’s sweat-slick skin.

It was rough and possessive; exactly how she’d wanted it. Beatrix’s hot mouth set a fire in her belly, and she ground up against the other woman, panting heavily. Grunting, Beatrix shifted her weight, suddenly increasing the pressure on Gloria’s shoulders and arms. She cried out again, and choked out a pained, “Yellow!”

Beatrix pulled back immediately. “Are you okay?” she said, her scarred face twisted into a mask of concern.

“Need a pillow,” she gasped. “Under my shoulders.”

“Anything for you, princess,” said Beatrix, her concern falling away as she reached for the pillows heaped along the headboard. There was only the barest suggestion of fond mockery in her voice, buried deeply under genuine warmth. “You’re my best customer, after all.” She manhandled Gloria into an upright position and arranged the pillows underneath her before letting her back down. “Better?”

“Much,” said Gloria, her face burning again. “Am I really your best customer?”

Beatrix patted her cheek, a bless-your-heart smile fixed firmly on her face. “Sweetheart, I’m an acquired taste. Even in Freeside, there aren’t _that_ many freaks into bullwhips and necrosis.”

“Christ,” Gloria muttered, her voice hoarse and low. “Didn’t realize I was that special.”

“I think you did,” said Beatrix fondly. “Nothing but the best for Gloria Van Graff.”

Flushing, Gloria squirmed under the weight of Beatrix’s ungentle affection, settling back into the heap of cushions. “I thought you were going to wreck me,” she mumbled, “not say pretty things.”

Beatrix grinned down at her. “It’s all part of the fun, darling,” she said, eyes gleaming in her skeletal face. “Now be a good girl and hold still while I get my other ropes out of my bag. I think you’re going to enjoy this. I know _I_ will.”

She shivered, and remained obediently still while Beatrix stomped across the room to her black toy bag. After a few minutes of digging through the bag, she returned with two more neatly-bundled cords -- cheap nylon rope, discolored and warped with age -- as well as a small plug with a flared base, a tin of lube, rubber gloves, and two clothespins. She clambered onto the mattress and knee-walked to Gloria, settling down between her spread legs, arranging her toys in a neat pile.

“So,” she said, folding the first rope to form a long loop. “I was thinking that I’d like to get something on your tits while I fucked you.” She nodded at the pile of toys while she wound the cord around Gloria’s ankle and thigh. “Does that appeal?”

Gloria moaned. “God, _yes._ ”

“And,” Beatrix continued, “it seemed like a shame to neglect your pretty ass while I was working over every other hole. So I grabbed the plug.” She trailed off meaningfully, lifting her patchy eyebrows in an unspoken question while she checked the knot.

“God, do it,” said Gloria. “Fill me up, Beatrix, I want you to _use_ me, I want--”

Chuckling, she bent and kissed Gloria, stealing the rest of her words. “Good girl,” she purred. “You make me so happy, beautiful.”

Gloria rocked forward, trying to press her naked body against Beatrix, but her movements were awkward and clumsy. Spread-eagle and bound like a prisoner, there was nothing she could do to relieve her aching pussy. She groaned in frustration and pulled and jerked at the ropes looped around her wrist, sending vibrations through the taut rope. One of the knots slipped down and pressed up against her clit and she cried out, her hoarse voice echoing off the crumbling plaster walls.

Beatrix pinched her upper arm again, squeezing until Gloria was breathless with pain. “Hold still,” she scolded. “I ain’t done with the ropes.”

Wheezing, Gloria nodded and forced herself to remain still while Beatrix secured her other leg in place. Satisfied with her frogtie, she adjusted the harness, tugging the ropes clear of her dripping cunt. Gloria opened her mouth to complain, but Beatrix stuffed the plug into her mouth, roughly pushing it past her lips and over her tongue. “Get that warmed up,” she said bossily. “Unless you want it going in cold.”

Gloria moaned around the mouthful of silicone, swirling her tongue around the slender tip. It tasted faintly of soap and disinfectant; a sharp medicinal taste that coated her tongue and invaded her senses. Half-gagging, she watched through half-lidded eyes as Beatrix snapped a pair of rubber gloves over her gnarled hands. The other woman smeared lube across her fingers and reached down, running her slick, gloved hand along the length of Gloria’s thighs, stopping just short of her groin.

“You make a pretty picture,” she said absently, patting Gloria’s leg and smearing lube across her skin. “It’s nice to see you like this, all spread-out and vulnerable. Reminds me that there’s a human being underneath your lousy attitude.”

Gloria made an indignant noise, but then Beatrix _touched_ her, massaging her perineum with two slicked-up fingers. She stroked Gloria’s taint, drawing hot, slick circles around her puckered asshole with her fingertips. Her mouth fell open in a moan and the plug slipped out, dropping onto the mattress with a soft thump.

Shaking her head, Beatrix tsk’d again. “I told you to keep it in your mouth,” she scolded. “Don't tell me that you can’t even follow simple orders.”

“Fuck you,” Gloria snapped. Her head was pounding; she was already on the verge of overstimulation. Her wet cunt and engorged clit throbbed from neglect. She wriggled underneath the other woman’s hands, tugging at the ropes and groaning as they bit into her skin.

Beatrix hissed in irritation and pinched her upper thigh, fingers digging into Gloria’s sciatic nerve. She yelped and jerked, thrashing uselessly against her bonds. Pain shot through her hip and thigh, resonating in her pussy and sending waves of arousal and embarrassment racing through her. Beatrix shushed her with a closed-mouth kiss and began to massage her ass again, fingers brushing over her entrance without penetrating her.

“Your ass is going to look so good with my plug in it,” she crooned. “I can’t wait to fill you up.”

“Give me a finger,” said Gloria, panting. “God, _please_ , I need _something_ in me--”

Beatrix obliged her, breaching her entrance with one gloved finger. She pushed in as far as the first knuckle, then began to twist and stroke, stimulating her from multiple angles. Moaning, Gloria threw her head back, shivering and pushing back around the other woman’s finger. She strained against the ropes, toes curling as her hands clenched behind her back. The mattress groaned under their weight, the squeaking springs a counterpoint to Gloria’s labored breathing.

“That’s it,” said Beatrix, her voice soft and urgent. “Relax, relax.”

“I can’t,” Gloria whined, head lolling back on her shoulders. “God Beatrix, I--”

She pulled away all at once, leaving Gloria empty and shivering. Lube dripped down from her asshole, soaking into the bedspread. Gloria relished the shock of the cold, air-conditioned air on her wet pussy and asshole. “Beatrix,” she rasped, “Beatrix, please.”

The other woman laughed. “I’m not going to do _shit_ for you, sweetheart,” she said, a mocking edge in her hoarse. “I said I was going to keep you on edge, didn’t I? Said I’d make you beg, didn’t I?”

Gloria bit her lip and struggled against the ropes, twisting and jerking in a futile bid to relieve the unbearable pressure in her groin. She was breathing like she’d run a mile, puffy nipples standing out sharply. She was slick and dripping and utterly at the other woman’s mercy, worked up and ready to burst like a champagne cork.

“ _Please,_ ” she repeated, voice choked with desperation. “I need--”

Her words ended in a groan as Beatrix began to finger her again. Two fingers this time, gently massaging her from the inside. Gloria felt the stretch all throughout her body, dark skin breaking out in gooseflesh. She tensed up, breathing uneven as Beatrix fucked her shallowly, gloved fingers slipping in and out of her hole. Shivering and half-mad with arousal, Gloria forced herself to _relax_ , her muscles unclenching as Beatrix worked her open, pushing her fingers in past the second knuckle.

It didn’t fill her up the way she wanted it to, but it was enough to relieve a little of the pressure building in her cunt. She sighed and sank back into the pillows, pressing her face against the blankets. “Let me try the plug,” she said hoarsely. “I’m ready.”

“You sure?”Beatrix’s fingers curled and uncurled inside Gloria’s asshole, stroking up and indirectly stimulating her clit.

She groaned, pushing her hips down against Beatrix’s hand. The other woman’s bundled fingers slipped a little deeper into her ass, providing a wonderful feeling of _fullness_. Her clit throbbed, and she groaned again, wriggling like a fish on a line. “ _Yes_ ,” she rasped. “Everything’s green.”

“Alright,” said Beatrix. She pulled back again, and an involuntary whine tore from Gloria’s throat. She fell silent at the press of the silicon plug against her slicked-up hole. After Beatrix’s warm fingers, it felt cool and unyielding. Strange. Alien.

Beatrix pushed the slender tip into her asshole, gently working it past the tight knot of muscle. After a moment of initial resistance, it slid into place, flared base flush against Gloria’s skin. She groaned and clenched around it, slowly adjusting to the pressure and fullness.

“That’s nice,” she said, her voice like fingernails against slate. “God, that’s nice.”

“Looks nice, too.” Beatrix peeled her gloves off and dropped them onto the warped wooden floor. The help would take care of their mess tomorrow. “Think I’m going to sit a spell, admire the view.”

Gloria groaned. “You’re an awful woman,” she said, eyes screwed shut. “The worst.”

Beatrix stroked her forehead, calloused fingers scraping over her fevered brow. “How does it feel?”

She was silent for a moment, considered. She squirmed, feeling the weight and pressure of the inert plug inside her, and shivered. It was cool and strange, somehow simultaneously underwhelming and overstimulating. It filled her up, but not nearly enough. She enjoyed the sensation, especially coupled with the ropes scraping against her sensitive skin.

Gloria swallowed a groan. “Good,” she said thickly. “It’s so good, but god, Beatrix, it isn’t _enough._ I need more, I need--”

“So greedy,” Beatrix scolded. She palmed Beatrix’s cheek and pushed her face down into the bed. The rough blankets scratched her cheek; Gloria shuddered. “You’ve got your ropes and your plug, what more do you want?”

“My tits--”

“What about them?”

Gloria looked up at the other woman through half-hooded eyes. Beatrix was grinning, her ruined lips pulled back to reveal sharp, yellow teeth. She was still fully dressed, still wearing her duster and cowgirl boots. She smelled like aloe and hickory and sweat and sex, sweet and musky as woodsmoke. Her scent was undercut by the sweet, vinegary scent of Gloria’s own arousal.

“Clothespins,” she croaked.

Beatrix’s grin widened. “Say please,” she ordered, pressing Gloria down more insistently. Her shoulders and wrists were beginning to go numb, but the added pressure wakened her sleeping muscles. Searing pain tore through her limbs and she gasped, mouth falling open.

“ _Please_.”

“Good girl.” Beatrix let Gloria up and patted her cheek again, then reached for the clothespins. Still grinning, she pinched Gloria’s nipple and set the pin just behind the areola, letting the pin snap closed on her flushed skin.

Jaw set in a rigid line, Gloria forced herself to remain still while the other woman tweaked her clamped nipples. Beatrix was looking for a response -- a plea or a desperate whine. Gloria screwed her eyes shut, falling back into stony silence.

After a moment, Beatrix cleared her throat. “You okay? I don’t want you to go too deep, sweetheart.”

Gloria sighed, an irritated huff of breath against the blankets. “I’m _fine_ ,” she said. “Green.” She bit her lip, and the other woman squeezed her tits, dragging calloused thumbs across her tender nipples. It was almost overwhelming: ropes, plug, pins, hands. Her slick cunt throbbed and she whimpered, lifting her hips and squirming in Beatrix’s grasp. “Don’t stop,” she said. “God, Bea, please don’t stop.”

“All things in due time,” Beatrix rumbled. She sat back on her haunches, still grinning. “I think you ought to sit there for a moment and take a minute to reflect.”

She snarled in frustration, twisting her wrists and trying futilely to free herself from Beatrix’s binding. The cords dug into her warm skin; she’d be wearing the marks for _days_. It was a delicious thought, a welcome distraction from her aching tits and pussy. She cried out in impotent rage, straining against the ropes.

Ruined lips twisted up in a smirk, Beatrix watched Gloria’s struggle. She ran her calloused fingers up and down the length of her thigh, always stopping just short of her dripping cunt. Once or twice, she stroked Gloria’s enflamed labia. The indirect stimulation was an _agony,_ and a primal cry tore from her throat. She howled in frustration: a caged nightstalker, bound but not tamed.

Beatrix pinched her thigh, and Gloria’s scream ended in a choked whine. “Christ, the way you’re carrying on, you’d think I was _murdering_ you.” Her tone was impersonal, businesslike, and that compounded Gloria’s frustration, twisting her guts in simultaneous anger and shame and arousal.

“Touch my clit,” Gloria demanded, all her manners and shyness forgotten. “Get me off, or I’ll kill you, I swear to god, Bea--”

The other woman laughed. “Good thing you’re tied down, then,” she teased. “Ask nicely, and _maybe_ I’ll take it under consideration.”

Teeth bared, Gloria glared up at the other woman. Every movement sent shockwaves throughout her body: she was keenly aware of the weight and pressure of the plug in her ass and the clothespins on her nipples. The ropes were the worst and the best of it, rough against her overstimulated skin. Her circulation was fine -- she had sensation in all her extremities, nothing had gone numb -- but her entire body ached from the strain of her unnatural posture and from thwarted arousal. The pillows behind at her back were a comfort, but they did nothing to relieve the tension in her shoulders and thighs. She went slack, head falling back onto the mattress. 

“Please,” she said, and the word stuck in her throat like a cazador stinger barb embedded in flesh. “Please, Beatrix.”

“‘Please’ what?” she said. “Use your words.”

She swallowed again, choking back a sob. “Please let me come,” she said. She was too far gone to care that she was begging, that her voice had been reduced to a ragged, desperate whine. “Beatrix, everything hurts, it’s too much, I need to come, I need to feel you, I need--”

“Hush, hush.” Beatrix bent low, silencing her with a kiss. “Relax, sweetheart.” Unbearably gently, she trailed one scarred hand down Gloria’s chest, skimming over the taut ropes. She parted her lips and sought out her clit, fumbling for a moment before she found the sensitive bud.

Gloria cried out, entirely involuntarily, shuddering and jerking under Beatrix’s skilled hands. “God,” she said hoarsely. After so much neglect, the shock of sudden stimulation was _almost_ unbearable, _almost_ painful. Gloria swallowed, bearing down against the other woman’s fingers, breath coming hard and fast. “Oh god,” she gasped, “oh god, oh _Beatrix_.”

“Is that good for you?” she said, her tone gentle and affectionate once again. She traced tiny circles around Gloria’s clit -- touching skillfully, mysteriously. “Tell me how it feels, babe,” she said, her voice edged with hunger. “Tell me how much you love my fucking fingers in your pussy.”

“It’s so good,” she said, eager to please now that her needs were being met. “God, it’s like you’re turning me inside out, you’re tearing me apart, you’re burning me up--” She gasped, tensing. “Oh my god, I’m so fucking _close_!”

Beatrix stilled for a moment. “You want to come, or do you want me to hold you back a while longer?”

Gloria nearly screamed at the loss of sensation. “I need to come,” she said, and she was suddenly wild with desperation. “Beatrix, I need to _come_.” Her voice shot up an octave and cracked like crystal, shattering all over the floor. “Oh my god, Beatrix, _please!_ Let me come, let me come, let me come--”

“Say please,” Beatrix whispered. She was breathing hard, cloudy eyes locked on Gloria’s face.

Gloria took a deep breath and tried to steady herself. She opened her mouth and a hoarse croak escaped, a single syllable fractured and splintered and rotten like old wood.

“ _Please._ ”

Beatrix began to move her hand again. Her fingertips slipped over Gloria’s clit, caressing the sensitive nub and coaxing a sob from her open mouth. She shushed Gloria with another round of gentle kisses, lips brushing over her stubbly scalp while she pulled a slow, shivery orgasm from Gloria’s abused body. She came with a rush of heat and wetness, her juices pouring out of her cunt and spilling down onto the bed, soaking into the blankets. She nearly cried from relief as orgasm washed over her in golden waves, curling her toes and spine as sweat rolled down her forehead.

Gloria sighed as Beatrix pulled away and wiped her slick fingers clean on the blankets. She lay still and silent for a moment as Beatrix began to undo the knots, unclamping her nipples and easing the plug out of her ass. She massaged her tingling feet and hands, pressing close-mouthed kisses to Gloria’s damp skin.

“You’re awful quiet,” she said, adjusting the pillows behind Gloria’s back and helping her to sit up. “Talk to me. How you doing?”

“Green,” she said softly. “Tired.” She swallowed; her throat was dry as dust. “Overwhelmed.”

“Good overwhelmed or bad overwhelmed?”

Gloria shrugged. “Just overwhelmed,” she said tiredly. “Thirsty.”

“I can fix that,” said Beatrix as she rubbed soothing circles into Gloria’s back. “I got water and--”

“Sunset?” said Gloria, shifting and turning her head, perking up a little.

“Wouldn’t’ve come without it,” she said. “Give me a minute, sweet. I’ll get you cleaned up and we can decompress together.”

Gloria nodded, and settled back down into the mounded cushions. She wriggled, and kicked the soaked blanket onto the floor, pulling the clean sheet up over her naked body. Clean, crisp cotton sheets were the ultimate in luxury; she’d grown accustomed after spending a few nights in the Vault hotel on the strip. Beatrix gathered up the ropes and clothespins and plug and returned them to her toybag. The plug went inside a small canvas sack to be cleaned later, everything else was tucked into small pockets sewn into the bag’s lining.

She returned with a glass bottle of Sarsaparilla, handed it to Gloria, and sat down on the bed beside her, still dressed in boots and spurs and leather duster. Every movement made them jingle like tiny silver bells, and Gloria laughed softly, thinking of the song on the radio.

“Jingle jangle,” she whispered, sipping from her bottle, careful not to slosh onto the sheets.

Beatrix looked at her askance for a moment. “You still doing alright?” she said.

“Yeah.”

“Feel okay about what we did?”

“Yeah.” She swallowed, and the soft drink was blessedly cool as it slid down her raw throat. She paused for thought, and then frowned. “I threatened you.”

“It’s part of play,” said Beatrix soothingly. “I don’t hold it against you.”

Gloria said nothing for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she said, whisper-quiet.

“I ‘preciate the apology, but it ain’t necessary,” said Beatrix. “Plenty of people’ve said far worse to me, in the bedroom and out of it.”

“I don’t like mixing sex and violence,” said Gloria, continuing as if the other woman hadn’t spoken. “The ropes and clamps and chains are one thing, but I don’t want to bring violence into it.” She sighed. “It feels messy.”

“Sex is always messy. Literally and figuratively.” Laughing at her own joke, Beatrix pressed a dry kiss to Gloria’s temple. “I try to neaten it up a little for your benefit, but it’ll never be really safe or tidy.”

Gloria sighed. “Don’t need to tell that to _me_ ,” she said. “Christ, I could use a cigarette.”

“You’re on your own for that one,” said Beatrix. “Those things’ll give you cancer, you know that?”

Gloria looked at her sideways, eyes flicking over her ravaged face. She snorted and nestled against the other woman, resting her head on her bony shoulder. “That’s fucking awful, Bea,” she said.

Beatrix nudged her with her elbow, grinning like a Chessy cat. “Made you laugh, didn’t I?”

“You’re lucky I’m not paying you to make jokes, or you’d be going home empty-handed.”

Still grinning, Beatrix kissed her cheek and said nothing. They lapsed into companionable silence, and then into sleep. When Gloria woke, contented and warm and still glowing from orgasm, she was alone. She sat up, blinking through the dark, and fumbled with a lamp.

Beatrix had left a note on the bedside table, a folded piece of yellow paper alongside a loop of the lovely silky rope. Squinting against the light, Gloria unfolded the paper and held it up close to her face, struggling to decipher the other woman’s jagged handwriting.

_Since you like it so much. --B_

Unable to suppress a smile, she pressed the rope to her bare chest, running her thumb over the smooth fibers. It still smelled faintly like the other woman from so long in her care: bonfires and growing things, scorching heat and fecund earth. “Thanks, Bea,” she whispered, her voice thunderously loud in the empty room.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Choco for the beta-read! I made heavy use of [Twisted Monk's](https://www.twistedmonk.com/) bondage tutorials while writing this. Any remaining mistakes are my own!


End file.
